


What Time Can't Heal

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: In the aftermath, Alucard has to deal with the consequences. This time, he doesn't have to do it alone. Trevor and Sypha have their own troubles to unburden and they've come home to heal.[S3 Spoilers]
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont & Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades, Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 92
Kudos: 507





	1. Chapter 1

Alucard could not be who he was.

He went on as best he could but there was a part of him that was missing, softened by loneliness and cut out by betrayal, and where he once had a heart there was only a festering wound that spread deeper by the day.

He could wake up in the morning, he could forage, he could prepare his meals. He could go through the motions but there was nothing meaningful in anything he did. He walked through the halls at a pace so slow it might have taken him an hour to make it from the front door to his room.

There was no hurry anymore.

Time meant nothing, anymore.

No one was coming.

It was him, in this hall of shadows. 

The castle was filthy. He hadn't had the strength or will to clean until _they_ had shown up. Nameless, faceless _things_ that he had tried to blot out from his memories. Mistakes that shouldn't have happened.

Once, for a brief time after his father's murder, he found his motivation. With company, he found the will to clean, to communicate, to befriend. To live, even.

But then, like all good things, it slipped through his fingers and slapped him in the face.

His mother's death left a scar upon his heart. His father's talons had cut into it deeper. With his father's death, it grew again. The back of the wagon as Trevor and Sypha disappeared from sight should have been the last strike upon his heart. But it wasn't. _They_ had to come in with the promise of the family he'd been denied, _they_ had to tease him with hope and purpose.

It wasn't just that they had betrayed him. It was that he'd had to kill them. He'd had to clothe them. He'd had to clean up the mess.

He'd had to send a message.

It was a message as much to the outside world as it was to himself. The world wouldn't let him escape this pain, it didn't want him to. It wanted him to be a monster. There were two people in this world that cared about him and they were gone.

Alucard stood in front of the dolls in his kitchen. He had prepared himself dinner but hadn't eaten it-- a ritual he'd developed in this past week. He cooked three meals a day and didn't touch any of them.

He hadn't looked at the dolls once, but today they were staring at him. They'd been silent the moment _they_ arrived, and hadn't said a thing since. At first it was fine, he thought he just couldn't hear their little voices in his head with _them_ there, talking over the dolls. But now, there was no one here, and the dolls were silent, too.

He reached out, gracing his fingers over the crudely made dolls. He held one in each hand tenderly, caressing the fabric with his thumbs.

Then, he squeezed them so tightly he could feel the fabric shredding in his grip. He threw them into a box hatefully.

Trevor and Sypha weren't here. He was alone. The dolls' tiny, beady eyes stared up at him. Their stitched smiles mocked him. Alucard's lip curled and he turned away. 

The walls felt like they were closing in on him. The smell of death wasn't helping.

It had gotten worse a few days ago, assaulting his nose perpetually. _They_ wouldn't leave him be and even now they continued their intrusion on his would-be peace. Sometimes he was spared the reminder of their presence. Other times, he could catch a whiff of it deep within distant parts of the castle. 

He hadn't expected the rot to make him so sick. What small morsels of food he _had_ been able to eat had been a fight to keep down.

Every time he exited the castle and every time he entered, he had to look at _them_ , and the dread in the pit of his stomach, putrid and volatile, felt heavier. 

Sleep did not come to him. He could not lay in a bed anymore, and he found no comfort on any chair, blanket, or floor. He lay awake at night, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night.

He heard wolves on the sixth night since they'd made their choice and at first he thought nothing of them--until he realized they were right outside the castle. 

Wolves were not uncommon in this area, and he had never been afraid of them before.

Now, things were different.

Fear surged through him, unprecedented and unwanted. He leaped to his feet from where he had been laying on the floor and was down the stairs before the blanket he'd hurled had settled on the ground.

Four wolves, massive and prowling, had smelled _them_ out.

One was prowling the perimeter, two were sniffing at _her_ and one was on its hind legs, trying to pull _him_ to the ground. _His_ hand had fresh bite marks, like the wolf had already been trying to peel the limb off.

Alucard's fangs grew and he hissed so loudly that all four wolves immediately recoiled in surprise. He lunged at them, swiping at the air just close enough to scare the wolves but not enough to actually harm them. They were wise enough to flee before he had to shed more blood. He watched them go but felt no real relief when he saw the pack run back into the forest.

He stood in front of the castle for a full moment, heart pounding and breath uneven.

He almost couldn't even bring himself to turn around and assess the damage.

Because, even at the end of all of this, it _hurt_. He didn't have the vengeance in his heart that he wanted to. He couldn't steel himself from the hurt and he certainly couldn't understand where it had come from.

His body might as well have been stone at the pace he turned, golden eyes slowly rising to assess the damage. 

A few bite marks, but no more than sun damaged and the expected decay.

It was horrible.

His head hung, in shame and heartbreak. Wetness blurred his vision and he had to force himself to walk back into the castle, away from _them_. He returned a moment later, shovel in hand. 

It wasn't hard work, digging a grave. He didn't have to think about it. For the hour it took him to do it, all he had to focus on was the movement of his muscles, the sound of metal against dirt. He didn't have to think about what was going in the hole until the very end, and by then he was so numb that it almost didn't even hurt.

Alucard set the shovel down tenderly and stalked over to _him_ first, carefully maneuvering to displace the body from the wooden pole it was staked onto. The hint of sunlight kissed the horizon but Alucard could see well enough into the night that it was no reprieve. He didn't want to see this sight in the light of day. 

With more gentleness than he deserved, Alucard lay _him_ into the bed of dirt. _She_ followed with the same tenderness.

He could not look at their faces, twisted in pain and agony, bloated and peeling.

He buried them together because he couldn't stomach the idea of an eternity alone. Not even for them.

It wasn't a proper burial but it was better than what he had done before. Maybe it was even better than they deserved.

He tried to be strong, torn between pretending like he didn't know them and pretending like they were only ever monsters to him.

Though his eyes collected moisture, he blinked them away. No tear was shed for the duration of his work and when he had finished, he planted the shovel into the raised mound of dirt, more exhausted now than he had been in ages. The idea of sleeping for a year, or a thousand years, or forever, sounded _good_. It was better than hurting like this.

There was an emptiness inside of him and the hole was growing again. He stared at the dirt hopelessly. His work here was done but he didn't feel any sense of completion or peace.

Just duty.

Every passing day he felt more of himself fade away. He longed for the days he did not dare allow himself to recall. Happy memories only hurt now, too. So far away and so far gone.

He pried himself from the shovel, too tired to retrieve it from where it stood upright in the dirt, and forced himself to the castle. Back towards it's suffocating walls and darkness, and the memories of how everything always went wrong.

Alucard made it past the stakes, still bloodied and reeking, and settled himself on the steps that lead up to the massive entrance of the castle. He didn't make it in, didn't make it near the door. He had made it up the steps, to the flat surface just before the great doors, before his legs decided to stop working. He managed to sit on the steps facing out towards the forest and hunched forward, fingers curled into his hair and palms shoved into his eyes to try and stop the tears before they could flow.

All he did was hurt and cry; he didn't understand how he had anything left.

The sun raised in the sky and began to slowly spread it's warmth across the land, across him, but he could only feel the icy grip of despair as his body shook. He curled into himself tightly, muscles so tense that the ache he felt crept into his bones. He could hear blood rushing in his ears and nothing else.

" _Alucard_!"

Two voices, irate and concerned, and apparently having been calling to him more than once before now, judging by the tone of them. His head shot up and for a split second he could only think of the dolls on his mantle--no, the trash, now--calling out to him.

Two horses and a little cart had settled a good few yards away from the last step of the castle and it took him longer than he cared to admit to recognize them. He could only remember the back of that wagon these days.

Sypha was rushing from the cart and while Trevor followed behind her, something slowed him just a bit. Sypha only saw Alucard. He saw the bloodied stakes, saw the grave, smelled the death. He approached from behind her, but his brows were already knit in suspicion. He did not reach for his weapon but the confusion limited his enthusiasm.

Alucard's expression was hard to read; he looked confused and lost and in pain. He rose, hands lowering to his side as he looked at the humans. 

It was hard to think they were real but the idea that his mind would conjure such tricks was just hateful. Sypha called his name again and his eyes found their way to her face. She made it up the last step, onto the same level as he was, and stopped right in front of him. She reached up a soft hand to brush at the half-dried tracks of tears that had fallen down one side of his face. 

Her touch was warm. He leaned into it helplessly.

The thought of any physical contact repulsed him too quickly though; he remembered _them_ and their poison touches and recoiled, leaving Sypha's fingers hovering against empty air.

She didn't understand and her expression showed every facet of her confusion.

"Something happen here?" Trevor asked, and Alucard watched as his eyes drifted from the wood in the ground to the grave off to the side of them.

Alucard wanted to answer, wanted to tell them everything, wanted to tell them to get the hell out of here and leave him to his misery.

He opened his mouth to speak but he didn't know where to begin. He didn't want to talk about _them_ or _it_ or _anything_. His lip was trembling again.

His eyes were red and wet from crying already, and Sypha had never been one to give up. She reached out, gentle fingers once again resting on his skin. Warm. Inviting.

Alucard did not pull away this time. He took one step forward, a little too quickly, and bumped into Sypha. He let his head fall upon her shoulder and seemed to wilt against her. Trevor moved in, not sure what he was seeing but understanding all the same. One arm went behind Sypha to brace her for Alucard's weight and make sure they didn't go toppling backwards down the stairs. The other arm went around Alucard to draw him closer.

The dhampir was trembling and seemed so much thinner than he remembered, but he didn't know if it was just because he _looked_ so fragile or because he'd been eating less. The smell of death and rot was fresh and if it was assaulting Trevor's senses he could only imagine how much worse it must have been for the superhuman creature in front of him.

Alucard was almost completely limp against them, except for the way he gripped Sypha's hand like a lifeline when she laced fingers with him, or the way his other hand latched onto the front of Trevor's tunic. He gripped it like he'd die without the touch.

No one moved for a moment, no one spoke for longer. Trevor managed to rub Alucard's back in the same way Sypha did for him the last time he'd gotten sick. He felt Alucard relax just slightly.

"Come on," Trevor insisted. "...Let's get you inside, you need to lay down."

"No," Alucard answered, a croak of a voice. He hadn't even had the energy to talk to himself. He was too tired to be surprised.

"...Alucard," Sypha insisted, soft and gentle.

"Are you real? Why are you here?" Alucard demanded. He did not sound as firm as he thought he should, and he did not lift his head from Sypha's shoulder. When Trevor had closed in, he had found comfort in the broad shoulder lightly pressing against him.

"...Wanted to come home," Trevor answered. "...You know we're real. What happened?"

He hadn't wanted to ask, not while Alucard looked so _frail_. He just wasn't the most subtle of creatures, himself.

Alucard was strong enough to defeat the Lord of all Vampires, the most hellish monster to curse this Earth. And yet, was weakest to himself and his emotions, crumbling beneath an invisible weight.

"It isn't worth it," Alucard rasped.

Sypha had managed to wrap her other arm around Alucard's waist, hugging him closer. "Why don't you want to go lay down? Are you hurt?"

Yes, of course he was hurt. In ways that couldn't be seen. The singed flesh of his body had begun to heal but the hole in his heart would swallow him up completely. There was no cure for that.

"No," he answered instead.

"I'll carry you in," Trevor offered, but Alucard replied with a firm, " _No_. Why are you _here_? Why _now_?"

He couldn't have been so angry with them but there was hate in his voice. Sypha could feel the wetness of his tears seeping through the fabric covering her shoulder.

"...Because it's been too long," Sypha murmured. "...Because we've been on the road and it was good, for so long. And then it wasn't."

"Because we met the kind of monster that makes you think about what's important to you. So we came back," Trevor added, still gruff and reading into every little cue he could pick up on.

"...And what is important to you?" Alucard whispered, waiting to be disappointed. Waiting to be reminded that there were, in fact, no good humans. Waiting to be punished for his stupidity.

"Well. You," Trevor answered bluntly, and he could feel Alucard tense up beneath him.

"Then this is a dream."

"...Why would you say that?" Sypha asked, resting her temple against Alucard's. "We told you we were coming back. Did you not want us to?"

...Did he? He didn't need them anymore, he had the dolls. And he'd even...

He'd thrown them away yesterday morning. He could do the same with the humans. He could probably even kill them both right now. He'd bury them fresh, though. There would be no smell of rot this time. They'd be dead before they could hurt him and...

And _Sypha_ was kissing his temple so softly, like his mother used to do when he'd had a nightmare, and _Trevor_ was rubbing his back, a sturdy barrier between Alucard and the grave he'd just dug for _them_ , and he had to wonder if Trevor even knew what he was doing, blocking Alucard from _them_.

...But then, it was Trevor, who saw more than he said and cared more than he pretended, and Alucard suddenly couldn't imagine a world where Trevor hadn't already dissected some truth. Sypha was clever but naive, she wouldn't have thought the worst first. Trevor would expect horrors just so he wouldn't be surprised when they revealed themselves.

He waited for their hands to grip him too tightly, for them to overwhelm him, to tease him with the affection and tenderness he _needed_. He waited for fire, or ice, or Morning Star.

None of them came.

The moments dragged on and there was only their continued reassurance. He was vulnerable now, back exposed, hands folded in as he clung to them.

He was shaking. And then, he was sobbing.

Alucard did not make any noise when he cried; the tears fell from his eyes and his body tensed and trembled. He curled in more, smaller.

“I wanted _you_ ,” he choked, hating how pathetic he must look to them. This was his emotion, his private, painful emotion, and here he was laying everything bare before them. 

They didn’t pull away. He waited for it; his face was burning and he knew that if they could see it they would be repulsed. If they knew everything he had done, they would hate him. He was just the monster Trevor thought he was when they first met. He was awful, horrible, evil--

“Yeah, well,” Trevor drawled. “...That’s why we’re back, too.”

Alucard’s mind went stagnant, empty. The gears stopped with a shriek that chased away all other thoughts. He clung to Trevor’s words, waiting with baited breath. He had a small light inside of him, a tiny bit of hope. The only piece that had survived this far.

Trevor and Sypha had the opportunity to snuff it out, but of everyone in this world, it was to them he offered it to do with what they wished.

He put his trust in the two before him in a way he shouldn’t have trusted anyone else--in the way that he had foolishly trusted _them_. The thought of the two bodies in the ground made him feel sick and he pushed into the two like if he tried hard enough he could just escape into them.

His forehead was on Sypha’s shoulder, his crown pressed against Trevor’s chest. He could feel their arms both wrapped around him. He could hear their hearts pounding, could _feel_ the emotion leaking out of them.

They were both competent warriors.

And were both been standing on the doorstep of his father's castle, holding him while he _wept_. He cried until he didn’t have the strength to stand, and Sypha never stopped with her soft kisses and Trevor never stopped stroking his back, and if he squeezed his eyes hard enough he could pretend like it had always been like this.

He could pretend like he’d done this before they left, like he'd just broken down then and maybe it would have been enough to convince them to stay. Even if there was a little voice in the back of his head telling him he didn't need anyone, it was so easy to ignore it when they were here.

When his tears were dried and he wasn’t sniffling, he was too embarrassed to move.

His body ached and he imagined they'd been there for fifteen, twenty minutes easily. He could feel the fatigue through every ounce of his being, could feel the lack of sleep, the lack of food.

As if he weren’t already ashamed enough, his stomach growled.

The tension in the air was short lived. “Alucard, have you been eating?” Sypha pressed. “We have rations in the cart. We made good time, Trevor drove the cart all night so we could make it here by morning." He'd been doing it all week, nearly, but he gave her a look so she simply concluded, "We have more than enough to make a feast.”

“...I’ve been cooking,” Alucard answered quietly.

“But have you been _eating_?” Trevor asked, holding Alucard to him while he looked at the mound of dirt and the shovel stuck out of it again. He could smell the death in the air still, could see the dirt on Alucard’s hands and boots.

“...I haven’t had an appetite.”

“Let me go get it,” Sypha insisted, so gentle. She didn’t draw away, waiting for some sort of permission first. Alucard would not let go of her hand so she continued, “The cart is right over there. I can get the horses settled and make us something to eat. Both of you boys are filthy, you can wash up.”

Alucard hesitated for a moment longer and then relented, finally loosening his grip on her hand. He nodded and Sypha exchanged a knowing look with Trevor.

They had different relationships with Alucard.

Sypha had known there was a connection between the two of them when they’d first met him in the catacombs under Gresit. Something about the dhampir stradling the hunter and both of them looking like they were enjoying it certainly set the tone for whatever relationship they had developed. She’d had her own time to bond with Alucard, but most of their time together was spent discussing texts or Trevor’s boorishness. There was a timidness when Alucard spoke with her, like sometimes he didn’t know how to _speak_ to a woman.

Sypha had always had her family. She may have lost her parents, but she had always had her grandfather and the other members of the caravan. She had never known loneliness until she teamed up with Trevor and Alucard to leave them, and even then she could hardly say that she was lonely.

But Trevor?

Trevor knew something he wasn’t saying, and she knew that whatever he’d discovered wasn’t appropriate to speak aloud. It wasn’t that Trevor didn’t trust her, it’s that neither one of them completely understood what they had just walked in on and if Alucard was going to open up they needed to have a starting point.

She could help with food, with nourishment.

Maybe Trevor could get an explanation out of him.

There was a part of her that said Trevor might not have been the best option; he could be crude and blunt, but in traveling with him she had seen that side of him that he tried to hide: the side that _cared_.

He cared for anything beaten down, anything down on its luck, anything hurting.

He cared for Alucard.

And so did she.

They needed to eat and settle into the castle; she had the distinct feeling that they were going to be staying for a while.

Trevor nodded at her, moving in to take her place with Alucard as she stepped away. “I’ll be back,” she said again, more for Alucard’s comfort than any other reason. When she saw the faintest bob of his head from beneath his blonde mane she breathed a sigh of relief and hastened to the cart.

“Come on,” Trevor said after a few seconds. “...Inside. You’ve been out here all night?”

At first, Alucard didn’t answer. Trevor felt him move, saw him peer over his shoulder at Sypha through half lidded eyes, as if to make sure she really wasn't just trying to sneak away and leave him. When she freed the first horse and began to lead it away from the cart, he relaxed.

He knew she wasn’t leaving.

“No. Not all night.”

“What were you doing out here so late?”

Alucard didn’t want to answer. At first, Trevor forced nothing of him; he just kept his arms wrapped around him and let him lean against him and watch Sypha over his shoulder. After a few moments, he patted the small of his back as if to get his attention and he carefully shifted so that he had only one arm around Alucard, allowing him to guide the dhampir back towards the castle.

Alucard’s steps were reluctant but after another gentle urge from Trevor he began to walk slowly.

“If you don’t want Sypha to ask questions, you ought to put your gloves back on before she sees those.”

Alucard did not immediately understand and had to look down at his hands. At first, he saw nothing more than pale skin and long nails. And then, the blistering red marks around his wrists when the fabric moved. He bristled and lowered his hands immediately, forcing the fabric to fall and conceal his shame.

They made it through the archway, inside the shady interior of the castle, before Trevor asked in a low voice, “Who hurt you?”

“No one.”

Alucard’s voice was hollow, full of despair. He didn’t want to talk about it. He felt dizzy and empty. _Their_ faces were shadows in his mind, flickering to light at the thought of _talking_ about them. Acknowledging them.

Trevor guided him with a steady hand, firm and reassuring. Kind, even.

“You don’t stay up all night to bury ‘no one’,” Trevor said quietly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, yeah. No, I can see that. But you aren’t doing yourself any favors.”

Roaming into the castle halls yielded further insight into Alucard's state. In all the time they had been gone, it was still a mess. Things that were broken and could have been fixed remained in place, only now a layer of dust had settled over everything. Trevor wasn’t sure Alucard had cleaned anything in the foyer. 

“I don’t have to answer to you, Belmont.”

Trevor could hear the tension in his voice, the warning. He’d never been very good at backing down from a challenge. In most fights, he went for the whip. This time, he simply ran his hand down Alucard’s back again, reassuring and calming. “No, you don’t,” he replied. He could feel Alucard’s muscles relax, no doubt in confusion; he had been bracing for confrontation. Trevor continued, “But if you’re trying to drown something out, the only way to kill it’s with alcohol.”

Spoken so confidently. For an alcoholic.

Alucard scoffed. “...I should have expected as much from you.” There was a part of him that wanted to tease, like how it used to be. The spark just wasn’t there.

“Yeah, well. Tell me you didn’t go through all the bottles in the cellar.”

“No. I barely touched them.”

Sometimes he’d go down the cellar and open a bottle, catching a whiff just because it made him think of Trevor. He wasn't going to admit it, though.

“Good. Then we should drink them all tonight.”

Alucard made a noise of disgust. “You’ll drink yourself to death.”

“Yeah, well. Tried to, once or twice. You ever been drunk?”

“No,” Alucard said, because of course he was too classy to have ever let himself get shit-faced.

“Worth a shot. You’re not sleeping.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. Alucard didn’t need to answer.

“A bottle is better than any bed-time story.”

Flatly, Alucard replied, “Is it, now.”

Trevor was not off put by Alucard’s deadpan response. This was more than just some sort of banter between the two of them. Every time Alucard opened his mouth, any time he responded, Trevor learned something.

So far he'd already learned that Alucard had been chewing on his lower lip; it was red and puffy. He probably hadn't changed his clothes in a few days; there was a certain wrinkled look about them that you didn't just get from digging a grave. Dirt, on his hands and boots and sleeves. Blood on his sleeves. Old blood, but freshly stained. 

Trevor wasn't the best example of a hygiene; the filth didn't bother him, but he couldn't imagine Alucard was the sort to thrive in old, filthy clothes. There were bags under his eyes, and his skin was cold and clammy.

He wasn't well.

Trevor still didn't know why, so he kept talking. “Where are we sleeping, tonight?”

Alucard tensed again and Trevor had more answers. He wondered if Alucard knew how easy he was to read. 

“I suppose you can sleep wherever you like,” Alucard replied. 

Trevor shrugged. They were moving slowly through the castle but he wasn’t quite sure where they were even going. Neither one seemed to be particularly keen to lead; Alucard knew the layout of the castle more but lacked the willpower or desire to go anywhere. Trevor just did the best he could. "I asked where _we_ were sleeping. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Sypha and I…”

Sometimes, Trevor slipped up too.

The way Trevor said her name, like it was a gentle caress on his lips, told Alucard everything he needed to know about what they’d been doing since they’d left him. He couldn’t look at Trevor, couldn’t even lift his gaze above the ground. His brows were knit and he felt the cold, piercing spike of betrayal. Of course they’d moved on without him.

“...Sypha and I have been on the road for almost a week straight. We…”

There was a harrowed pain in Trevor’s voice. He’d been defeated before; you couldn’t win every fight. Still, this had been hard on him. Harder on Sypha. “...Just wanted to be back home.”

It was funny, though. That they could have their separate life and still call this place _home_. It was Alucard’s home, too. Only, he didn’t get to leave. He was just a bit bitter about it.

Trevor's voice was grim. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how things would have been different if you were there.”

Alucard did not want to talk about himself, so when Trevor opened the door for a distraction, he took it. “What happened?”

Trevor hummed in response; there was a parlor off to the side of the entrance and it was only by pure fluke and muscle memory that he'd wound up finding it. He only remembered the room because of the massive fireplace within; before he and Sypha had left, this was one of his favorite rooms and he fell asleep there often. It had been one of the best preserved rooms ; none of the fighting had occurred here. The room was dusty, still untouched, but Trevor was pleased to see both the fireplace and seating where he remembered them.

The parlor had a bit of a feminine touch; Trevor couldn’t help but wonder if Alucard’s mother might have had something to do with this room. It might have explained why it felt like it was closed off, apart from the rest of the castle. He guided Alucard to a long chair wide enough to seat two; he sat Alucard down and then took a seat next to him. “...Well. I guess you could say, we won. But we lost a lot, too.”

Alucard nodded; he laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward. He had resisted the urge to sniffle away the tickle in his nose but his eyes were so sore and red. They burned so much still that he was afraid he might just inspire new tears if he rubbed at them, if he acknowledged anything in any way.

“...There’s a lot in this world that I don’t understand,” Trevor continued. He hunched over where he sat, propping one elbow on his knee to support himself and scratching at his hair, frustrated, while he tried to find the words. “...Went to a town. Should have been just ordinary shit. Cult, Night Monsters. Traitors.”

There was so much he was keeping from Alucard, but it was for his own well being. He couldn't tell him that the cult wanted to resurrect his father, his mother. If Alucard knew that was a possibility, who knew what he might do to save her? Them? What’s dead is dead and should stay that way, no matter how dearly they were missed.

“Instead, we found a sick fuck of a judge, a mind fucked priory, a lunatic magician, and a portal to--I don’t know--Hell, or something. I don’t know. The whole town’s gone.”

Alucard had no comprehension so Trevor sighed. “...We closed the portal. Lost the magician to it. Killed the Night Beasts, but the monks were using arcane symbols or something--I don’t understand magic like you do--and the villagers...Those were the sacrifice to work their magic. And at the end of it all, the one decent fucking person we’ve run into in weeks turns out to be a serial killer. Of _children_. And now Sypha can’t sleep without having nightmares, and she’s got this look in her eyes, and she won’t tell me what she’s thinking, but I already know. You two were always different from me, you know.”

Alucard was digesting the information, surprised at how tender, how open Trevor could be. But then, he’d had no one to talk to but Sypha about this, and judging by how affected she seemed to be he could understand why Trevor had been keeping all of it bottled up.

Trevor let out a grumble of a sigh. “You two always saw the good in people. Even when the shittiest person was standing in front of you, you’d see good somewhere.”

Finally, Alucard’s gaze drifted away and he found himself leaning back into the cushion of the seat. “...Lot of good that’s done,” he muttered.

“...You can say it like that, but it has done a lot of good. You think I’d be wandering the countryside, _helping_ people, if I didn’t have you two nagging at me about how I have to? I don’t do this for fun. Fighting monsters is fun. _Helping_ people? That’s not fun. People _hate_ me.”

Alucard wanted some quip, wanted to say something bitter or cruel, or something to tease him, or _something_. Instead, he pressed his fingers closer together and kept his head bowed. “I don’t hate you.”

It was spoken softly, deliberately, and surprised even himself.

He was trying to hate Trevor and Sypha for leaving him. He was trying to burn out the emotions so they couldn't hurt him. He was failing, at all of that. Instead, here he was, being _sentimental_.

Trevor laughed softly though, apparently taking the words well enough. Maybe it was something he'd needed to heal. “Yeah, well. Give it time. You haven’t had to live in the same house as me. You thought being on the road was bad?”

“No,” Alucard answered. “...If I’d had to say, maybe it was the happiest time of my life. I may have a few memories of my mother that are more dear to me. Maybe some with my father. A long time ago, though,” he insisted, and the worry was back. “...But he and I don’t have much in common. Didn’t have much in common. Not after a while. I mean, he was traveling for most of my life. And here I am, just. Sitting here.”

Trevor nodded, repeating the words in his head, memorizing them. “...You don’t like being cooped up here.”

“No, I hate it. I feel like everything is closing in on me. I’m losing my mind. Or, maybe I’ve already lost it.” He finally reached up to rub at his eyes again, sighing heavily. “...I’ve made mistakes, Trevor.”

Trevor held his breath, waiting for words, for explanation. They didn’t immediately come, so he nudged the topic a little more, “You and I both. What happened?”

“...You’ll hate me if I say.”

“I won’t hate you. Sypha won’t hate you. I just told you, a whole village burned up, souls eaten, because we didn’t do a good enough job to save them. What could you have done that was worse?”

Alucard did not know, honestly, if Trevor would understand.

...But he needed someone to know. Needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t crazy--or that he was--or to tell him that he was a monster. Or not.

Alucard didn’t know what he wanted. Except, he knew he didn’t want to be alone.

“...Hunters came.”

“Hunters hurt you?” Trevor demanded, angry.

“Yes. But they did not attack me when they first arrived. They said they came to learn. They wanted to save their people.” The words tumbled from his lips, like if he spoke fast enough he could justify everything to himself, to Trevor. Or, maybe, if he spoke fast enough, Trevor wouldn’t catch him in his half-truths.

“Then why did they hurt you, did you deny them?”

“No. I gave them everything I could.”

“...And they hurt you because…?”

Alucard was quiet, answer dead on his lips. “I don’t know.”

“...You tried to help them and they hurt you,” Trevor simplified. 

Alucard could not make it easy on him, he was already trying to justify something, anything. “...I don’t know what I did wrong.” His voice cracked. He wanted to cry again, not in front of Trevor, but by himself. Alone. Only, he didn’t want to be alone. And he didn’t have the energy nor hydration to cry more.

Trevor looped his arm around him again and gave him a gentle squeeze, pulling Alucard to his chest in a surprisingly comfortable embrace. “...You were burying them.”

“...It’s worse than that,” Alucard confessed. He was glad Trevor couldn’t see his face and he shamelessly hid his face against the warmth, listening to the steady beat of Trevor’s heart.

“So tell me.”

“...You’ll leave. You’ll hate me. You’ll turn on me, too.”

Trevor’s heart pulsed faster; he was _mad_ at the insinuation. “This castle really is making you lose your mind. Just say it.”

“I put them in the yard. Like what my father did.” Alucard’s voice was cold, spiteful, like he was challenging Trevor, trying to prove him wrong. Trying to chase him away.

He didn’t know what he wanted; the emotions were fluctuating so rapidly and he was filled with so much anger and despair.

Trevor waited. His heart pounded rapidly for a moment longer and then gradually slowed back to normal. “...Was that all?”

Silence, and then, “Why don’t you sound surprised?”

“...Because I saw the blood on your stakes. I smelled the rot. What were you doing, trying to chase away anyone else?”

Trevor showed no anger and remained surprisingly calm; it helped that he had begun running his calloused fingers through Alucard’s tangled hair, smoothing it out and combing it gently.

“...I wanted to be alone.”

“No,” Trevor said. “...You don’t want to be alone. You want to be with the right people. And we weren’t here and you got stuck with something else.”

“...They wanted me,” Alucard tried to justify. “And you left.”

Trevor had pieced together much of the story but every now and then Alucard would say something to give him another little piece of the puzzle. There was an undertone to his words, something Alucard would not say. Something Trevor understood would not be given easily.

“...We came back,” Trevor pointed out. “...We made a mistake. Shouldn’t have been gone for so long. It was a bad decision to leave without you. We all paid a price. It was enough to get Sypha and I back where we needed to be. So if that’s all that happened, if you just had to kill some hunters in self defense after they came after you--you think that’s going to make me hate you? Because you made yourself some lawn ornaments and then cleaned them up when you realized you’re not your father? The only person you’re fooling is yourself, Alucard, and I don’t think you’re even doing a good job of that. Get your head out of the past. Whatever happened, stop thinking about it. It’s not healthy. You’d just going to do the same thing I did. And then you’ll wake up with empty wine bottles around you and suddenly you’re an alcoholic.”

“You said it helped.”

“It does. Just comes with some drawbacks. Apparently the better option is to let the people who love you help you.”

Alucard listened to Trevor’s heart beat a little faster after he said _love_ , like it was some precious, treasured word he could only use in in the rarest circumstances. In fact, imagining the Belmont _loving_ anything was a feat of its own.

...But Alucard liked the way his arms felt around him, the way his fingers tickled his scalp, the way his voice felt in his ear.

“...And where am I going to find people like that?” he asked dryly.

“You could open your eyes and stop being a brat,” Trevor scoffed, tugging on a strand of Alucard’s hair. It didn’t hurt, it was just surprising. 

Trevor wouldn’t let him sulk. Trevor wouldn’t let him lose himself in _those_ emotions.

He actually expected to help. And Sypha, no doubt, felt the same.

“...I’m not ready, Trevor.”

“Maybe not today. But we’re not leaving any time soon. And when we do leave again,” he shrugged. “It’ll be after we find some way to fortify our strongholds. So we won’t have to worry about it when we’re out.”

“You make it sound as if one of us won’t have to stay to guard it.”

“Are you saying you want to?”

“...No,” Alucard finally answered, reluctant in his honesty.

“Then you’ll come with us. There has to be enough magic and traps or,” his eyes searched the room. “Whatever this place is full of, to keep it safe. We really could have used you out there, Alucard. I’ve never been a team player. But any time we were making a plan, I couldn’t help but think we’d have been stronger with you there with us.”

Alucard pressed closer, a bit more insistent for the gentle touch of fingers curling in his hair. Less discrete in his need to be wanted.

Wanted by the right people.

“You really thought of me so often?”

“Daily, more often than once. And I’d expect you to show up every time. Sometimes in the middle of a fight, I’d think about you and your little sword, how nice it might be to have a little extra backup. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when Sypha was asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking. Sometimes, when I thought of home. Funny thing, you know. I always see your face when I think of home.”

“The Belmont Hold is under my domain,” he reminded.

“It’s more than that. God, you’re so cold,” he muttered, reaching for a blanket almost out of reach. When he squirmed to grab it, Alucard moved with him, as if so unwilling to be parted even just a single inch. Trevor draped the blanket around both of them. Not so far away, he could smell something cooking. Sypha’s humming echoed through the castle and a small smile graced his lips. “...Everything we fucked up, you could have fixed. Every time we failed, I thought about how we wouldn’t have, if we’d all been together.”

“...You give me more credit than I deserve.”

“Oh, my Sleeping Savior, I don’t think so. You’d probably have been able to smell the Night Creature. Saved us all a lot of trouble if we’d known it was there, we could have just killed it before anyone had to be sacrificed. Or, with your speed? Maybe we could have saved more of them. You and Sypha understand magic, sometimes differently. Maybe you’d have seen what she missed. Or had a better instinct than I on who to trust. Do you get it?”

Alucard was taken back by the sudden insistence in his voice. “Get what?”

“How much we need you.”

Need. _Need_.

He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t pathetic. They _needed_ him, like he needed them.

“You said...you trusted someone that you shouldn’t have?” he chanced after a moment.

“...Seemed like a good idea. But, yes. Put our faith in him. He was a Judge, for Christ’s sake.” He kept his voice low, like he was afraid of Sypha hearing. She had cried into his chest that first night. She’d kept the walls up for as long as she could and then wept until she was depleted of her strength and fell asleep against him. He’d stayed awake all night, and well into the next day to keep her in his arms. “...Killed a lot of innocents. And I shared a drink with him. Even thought I might like him. Typical humans, give them an ounce of power and watch how quickly they destroy everything they touch.”

Trevor scoffed disdainfully, eyes narrowed again as he glowered at the wall.

“...Do you hate them?” Alucard asked suddenly. “Humans.”

They had both been ostracized, cast out. Betrayed.

Trevor took his time to think, to consider his answer. “...No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t. There are good ones. I mean, look at Sypha.”

“She is one,” Alucard replied. “...Like my mother was, to my father. The exception. But look how that turned out.”

“If you look at everything in black and white you’ll find exceptions you can’t categorize. And the longer you look, the more you’ll find. And then you’ll realize that the exceptions aren’t rarities, it’s just the way the world is. Your mother just so happened to be the one person who decided she didn’t _care_ about the bodies in the front yard, she was too determined to let an obstacle stop her. Your father probably could have found a shit ton of people he would have liked, if he ever left the castle.”

Alucard listened but it felt like his mind was delaying any true processing of Trevor’s words.

Trevor took his silence well enough and spoke again instead of waiting for a response. “A man in town gave me a free drink,” he said after a moment. “A seamstress in the town before that stitched up our clothes. A doctor before that shared a meal and medicine with us. Are there shit humans? Well, yeah. Everywhere. But maybe...they’re not all so bad. The Speakers don’t ask for anything and give help wherever they can. My family history is littered with people that helped our cause for no gain to themselves. So. No, I don’t hate humans. I just know what they can become. Same as any monster.”

Again, Alucard took a while to process. Finally, he sighed. A broken whisper of a voice fell from his lips, so quiet he wasn’t even sure Trevor would hear it. “...My mother said to forgive them. But I cannot find it in my heart.”

“Is it broken?”

“...It might be.”

“Whoever they were, they weren’t worth it. Weren’t worth you.”

“You don’t know that. Don’t know _them_.”

“Do I want to?”

For a long moment, the same silence Trevor had come to expect--except, now he didn’t dread it. Alucard was talking, just thinking. Collecting his thoughts. He wasn’t shutting anyone out anymore. “...No. But they could have been great. You might have liked them.”

“No. I’d have hated them for hurting you. They made their choice.”

“...I wanted to love them.”

“Why?”

For a long moment again, the silence. Little taps and clicks and clangs from the kitchen, and Sypha’s soft humming was the only reprieve. Alucard’s voice was soft when he spoke, but it was loud and clear enough for Trevor. “...Because you were gone.”

Trevor exhaled and once more just cradled the back of Alucard’s head as he massaged into his scalp.

“Forget about them. You can tell me the rest when you’re ready. But they’re gone, now, and we’re here. And whatever happened is in the past, and it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t remember you being so good with reassurance. Or emotions. I can’t believe you haven’t told me to eat shit and get over it.”

Trevor snorted. Alucard was in there, under the layers of sadness and hurt. “Yeah, well. Sypha’s been softening me up. Sort of. I’m too tired to pick a fight right now. I just want…”

He was quiet. “...I just wanted to be home. I wanted to be away from the world. And all the bad things in it. I just wanted a break.”

“You came home to heal?” Alucard chanced.

“Yeah, I guess. My body’s sore. My mind.”

“Your heart?”

“No, my heart’s fine. Can’t you hear it?”

Alucard listened and closed his eyes, replaying the steady beat of Trevor's heart in his mind. It was like a trance, a lullaby almost. He felt like he could sleep. He felt like he could sleep in a _bed_. If Trevor was there. And Sypha, on the other side. No surprises, then, from anywhere.

“...That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Trevor laughed, and Alucard could hear the way it seemed to start in his chest and fall from his lips. “...But I’m still a little rough around the edges. I’m only human. We can’t all be perfect.”

Alucard grunted; Trevor could barely make out the sound of his voice as it muffled against his shirt. “You’re good enough, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Sypha says as much. So you’re good enough too, I suppose.”

“...I’m going to sleep on you. Right now. But you’ll wake me up for food.”

“If she doesn’t do it herself, yeah.”

Alucard nodded, at first unhappy when Trevor began to move to lay down on the long chair--the chair that felt too much like a bed when he lay on it, himself. Only, when Trevor settled and Alucard lay on top of him, curled a bit to fit, his disappointment faded. 

Trevor adjusted the blanket atop of him, covering him as best he could at the angle. He wrapped one arm around Alucard’s waist and kept one hand tangled in his hair, holding him gently.

Alucard couldn’t sleep on a bed, or a chair, or a floor. But he could sleep on Trevor.

And, more than that, he could sleep well.

For the first time in a week, he could smile. For the first time in a week, he could sleep. For the first time in a week, he was happy, and safe, and loved.

For the first time, in a long time, he could heal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly appreciate all the kind words you all shared with me after the last chapter. I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep writing or just leave it at a one-shot but I think I have a plan for the direction I want to take it in. I know this chapter is short but I'm hoping to move it along again in the near future. I have adjusted some tags and will continue to do so as I better plan how I want the story to go but I want to thank everyone for reading; I've enjoyed writing and it's been wonderful to have the motivation to continue! As always, I would like to write more in general and I am still open for new requests! Information can be found on my profile, so if there’s anything anyone wants to see and can’t find or wants more of, please let me know!

It wasn't that Sypha lacked culinary discipline, it was that as a Speaker she was used to making due with what they had. Monster hunting had its perks and a whole new world of ingredients were available to her but she tended to return to the humble meals of her childhood. 

Trevor wasn't any sort of chef; he could leave a piece of meat over the fire, doze off until it was charred black, and still manage to stomach it.

She wouldn’t subject anyone to that. The meal she prepared was the best she could manage, and it wasn’t perfect by her standards but it was passable--and given the circumstances, that was good enough for her.

There were utensils and mechanisms in the kitchen that Sypha didn't quite understand; after they'd taken the castle, she and Alucard had spent a good few hours going over the different things his father had acquired. At the time, it had been both because she was interested and because it was a good distraction for him. For the entire duration they were together, he had been somewhat animated, as if he had forgotten the entire battle, the loss of his father. She had let him talk for as long as he wanted as she sat at the table, chin propped in her hand and smile on her face.

Back then, the kitchen had felt warm.

Now, it just felt small. She was making a stew, albeit impatiently. She had thrown in too much meat, too many vegetables, too many spices, and now it wasn't cooking fast enough. She planted her hands on either side of the metal pot and watched as flames erupted from her palms.

The popping bubbles on the surface did very little to deter her; her mind was far away from the meal despite how eagerly she had offered to cook. 

She wanted to help. She'd been thinking about Alucard for weeks now but _seeing_ him had sent something trickling through her. Sypha knew fear, but she also knew how to overcome it. She had never been so paralyzed by it that it felt like her mind was trudging through an ice storm.

Her confidence had shattered. Defeating Dracula made her feel powerful and she had been fortunate enough to ride that wave for months with Trevor. Defeat was hard to swallow, and shaken by the incidents in Lindenfeld, all she could think about was missing signs and messing up.

She couldn't do that with Alucard. She needed to compose herself. She needed to be at her best. She might have failed there but she wouldn't fail _here_.

Broth exploded from the bubbling surface, splattering all over her face and the front of her outfit. Instinctively, she recoiled, hands up defensively. She very nearly flung a fireball at the offending meal. Heart pounding in her chest, Sypha held her breath as the silence ticked on.

Finally, she deflated. Her adrenaline withered and so did she. She tugged at the blue wrap she wore, shamelessly stripping down to her black underclothes before mopping at her face with the dirtied fabric. She didn't realize she was crying until she couldn't see through the tears in her eyes, and when she had the chance she just wiped those away too.

Sypha was scared. Scared of failure. Scared of losing Alucard. Scared of the unknown.

Something was _not right_ here. She could feel it in the air, like a sickness. The castle had been unfriendly before but now it was smothering, like death itself permeated the air and choked her closer to the grave with every breath she took. 

She didn't know how Alucard had managed to stay here by himself for so long. She wanted to be _out_ of here. Or, at the very least, with them.

A week and a half ago she’d been so tickled with the idea of investigating and a tingle in the base of her spine told her there were mysteries here. Alucard was at the center of at least one but she had no enthusiasm at the idea of unravelling the secrets. She tried to remember everything that had happened, from the moment the castle appeared in their line of sight to the the moment Trevor said ‘Something’s not right.’

He smelled the death before she did, or maybe he’d noticed that there were no animals nearby, or that Alucard was sitting on the steps. Maybe he’d seen the grave, or the shovel--she didn’t know what the defining moment was when Trevor realized something was _wrong_.

Alucard hadn’t looked up when they’d turned the bend. Didn’t look up when the horses whinnied in protest as they approached the castle, didn’t look up when they’d called his name.

His face, twisted in despair and loss, remained imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

Sypha sucked in a sharp, determined breath, and stomped back to the bubbling pot. 

Her hands were trembling and her heart was pounding but she wasn't giving up. She couldn't fail, not here. Not him. Not again.

-

When Sypha finished the soup she collected three bowls and filled them three quarters of the way up. It took her too long to find spoons and when she had she was rushing to find Alucard and Trevor. The castle was a maze; she had never felt comfortable here. Maybe it was the residual magic that clung to every brick in the wall, maybe it was just her own doubt and fear, but she felt like she was being chased. 

The longer she was on her own, the more unnerved she felt. The magic hummed through the corridors, twisting around every bend and corner, wrapping around her. It was like invisible chains dragging her back. 

She almost screamed for Trevor but didn't trust that she could keep her voice even. Trevor heard too much, saw too much. Any progress he'd made at soothing Alucard would end in chaos.

Sypha was strong. She persevered, against the ghosts in her mind and the ghosts in the castle. 

She balanced the bowls with ease and stepped into the parlor looking far more collected than she felt. Her eyes found Trevor's immediately; he was lying down, head tilted back and looking at her upside down. Alucard was lying atop of him, still, and breathing deeply.

 _Sleeping_.

She breathed a sigh of relief and walked over, kneeling by the long chair they had settled themselves. She placed the bowls on the floor silently, trying to get comfortable first. Trevor did not move but she understood why; he was afraid of waking Alucard. She placed her fingers lightly on his arm, squeezing reassuringly.

Trevor's head rolled to look at her and he sighed. If he'd been able to talk out loud with confidence he still wouldn't have known what to say.

Sypha did not touch the soup and neither did he. She was oblivious to the odor, distracted and letting concern gnaw away at her senses. He could smell the spices from here. Trevor had an iron stomach and wasn't the sort to complain about a meal prepared by someone else.  
Alucard had similar decency but the smell was still enough to wake him.

It tickled up his nose like it had actual presence. His brows twitched to life and furrowed while his nose wrinkled; he turned his head and pressed it into Trevor's chest. "...What is that?"

"...Lunch?" Trevor suggested, keeping an eye on Sypha. She perked up when Alucard shifted, hopeful again. Her grip on his arm tightened before she quickly reached for a bowl. "It's here," she added. "An old family recipe. I improvised."

Eventually, Alucard's grip on Trevor's shirt loosened. He pried his hand away and forced himself upright. "...It smells," a pause, "creative."

Sypha pressed her lips together. "Eat," she insisted, pushing the bowl into his hands.

When Trevor sat up, he received the same treatment. The food didn't look appetizing but he wouldn't deny anything from Sypha, not just for fear of wrath or despair, but because he loved when she got that accomplished, _happy_ smile on her face. His bowl was in the soup and then his mouth before Alucard had even finished stirring the meal.

He'd had three spoonfuls before Alucard lifted the first to his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Alucard sampled it. He saw the crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the little fold of skin between his brows. Alucard swallowed but was slow for a second spoonful. Sypha urged him by patting his knee. "Eat," she said again. "I'll get you seconds when you're done, you're so thin."

Alucard was torn between protesting and obliging and Trevor spared him a response. "Sypha," he said, foregoing the spoon and lifting the bowl to his lips, almost violently chugging it all. He lowered the bowl and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "He'll have to fight me for it. It's the best you've made."

Maybe Sypha knew it wasn't. She looked up at him with slightly knit brows and a smile that could light up a room. She laughed, suddenly, and shook her head. "You'll eat anything, Trevor Belmont."

He grunted but didn't disagree.

Alucard watched the two of them, watched the way they spoke with a tenderness he craved. He saw the little things--the way she moved so that her shoulder rested against his knee, the way Trevor's face relaxed when he looked at her.

He saw what they had and for a split second, he felt like the outsider. He remembered _them_ , in his house. Cooking for them, laughing with them, just being with them. They were _his_ , to fill the void in his heart. When Trevor and Sypha had left, for the briefest moment he'd wondered if maybe he had something to mend his heart.

 _Their_ faces flashed in his mind, open mouthed and eyes rolled back as they bled out on his bed. He shuddered and tried to banish the thought.

He wanted to think about Trevor and Sypha, about how happy they had been. About how he wasn’t alone. About how there was a chance.

Except, now that he had Trevor and Sypha, he realized they already had each other.

A sadness befell him, watching what had grown from their bond. They'd always had chemistry, so much so that he’d been jealous when Sypha was alone with him. Maybe he’d been afraid of being left behind from the very beginning.

He was drawn to Trevor like a moth to the flame; they should have been enemies and yet he found himself yearning for his presence, for his approval. Trevor was uncouth--filthy, unrefined, brutish. Brave, compassionate, protective. Dumb, but clever.

Alucard stared into the soup on his lap and stirred it again. Sypha was so very different from Trevor. She was a smart woman, if not the smartest human he'd ever met--aside from his mother. Naive, but in a pure way. Like she could only see the good in the world, even when the evil was beating her down.

She made him think of his mother. It wasn't that he sought to replace her--or that he ever could-- but that sometimes their conversations made her feel more familiar to him. She was loving and bright and unblemished by the world. He wanted to protect her from the same fate that befell his mother. He wanted to hear her stories, wanted to feel her softness soothe away the harshness of the world.

What he wanted, she and Trevor had, together. He was an outsider again, coveting that which was before him and yet out of reach. 

"Perhaps I will cook for you," he suggested, stirring the soup and trying to identify just _what_ he was looking at. "...You are my guests, after all. A host should not treat his visitors so indecently."

Trevor snorted and Sypha just smiled, patting his knee. "I hope we are more than guests!"

His eyes lifted finally, meeting her gaze. He was lost in blue oceans, swimming with hope.

And pain.

She was not as put together as she pretended. She hadn't burst into tears in front of them, and he felt a pang of humiliation. His shoulders slumped but her hand was still on his knee and squeezed. There was strength in it, a stability. He did not feel stronger but he felt connected. "...You are. But..." His eyes were on the food again.

Trevor suggested, "Why don't you both cook something? No use making one person do all the work."

"And what will you do?" Sypha challenged. It was playful, but it was coded. She knew when he was scheming. 

"I don't know. Set the table. See if I can't find some wine to go with the meal."

Explore the castle, she inferred. 

It was a good plan. It would give her time with Alucard, who did not protest either suggestion. He stirred his soup and forced another spoonful down. "All right," he agreed after a moment. "...There is a river a few minutes from the castle. There are fresh fish. I find I have a taste for them."

"Good, yes," Sypha agreed. "We should take a walk outside. You look pale."

"I think I've always been pale."

Sypha gave him a look. Alucard knew she was holding her tongue by the way her cheek puffed out. Babying him. Treating him like a fragile thing. Maybe he was. Maybe he was just a child to them, something to be protected.

He wanted to be more. He wanted to be one of them, to have what they had. The little looks, the gentle touches. His stomach churned and he thought he might vomit at the thought of wanting, _needing_. His memories were tainted already though, and he had to fight to wash black fog across everything from the past month. He didn’t want reminders of _them_.

"Yeah, well this castle's a mess. If we're not taking a walk outside we'll be inside cleaning it, so pick one or the other. I hope you didn't leave _my_ house in this state," Trevor grumbled. He didn't mean it. Alucard needed a push out of the door, back into the world. They were still walking the delicate line between what was necessary and what was too much.

For Alucard, cleaning sounded tedious. He had managed very little in the entire time he'd been here. Fresh air would at least be like old times, the three of them out on the road. He pressed his lips together and pretended like it was a convincing smile. "A walk outside, then."

Sypha had barely touched her food; she hadn't had much of an appetite to begin with. Trevor had finished his. Alucard, despite the hunger, was struggling to eat. They sat together for a moment in silence before the dhampir lowered his spoon into the bowl. "I'm sorry."

Sypha, with her gentle surprise, looked at him. "For what?"

"...I cannot finish."

"You did your best," she said, and he felt the reassurance in a way he did not expect.

Sypha didn't care if he finished the food, if he didn't clean the castle, if he failed. She said it with her eyes, with the tender look, she gave him. With her hand resting against his knee again. He thought he might crumble at the thought of a human--of anyone--touching him, and yet he had let them hug him, had laid on Trevor, had felt ease with Sypha's hand.

He still wanted it. He still wanted them.

He looked at Sypha with desperation, craving the way her words eased into his heart.

She didn't know what had happened in their absence, but she was telling him, now, that _he'd done his best_. Whatever had happened, she had such faith in him, such conviction, that he had honestly tried.

And he had, hadn't he?

He tried to make them proud. To make his mother proud. Tried to be the hero everyone seemed to think he was.

Alucard felt frail again, and like another sob was waiting to tear through him. He felt the burning in his eyes, up his throat, and lowered his gaze. He didn't cry this time though he didn't know if it was because he had control over it or because he was just too tired. He could still only conjure the ghost of a smile but he _felt_ something again. "...Thank you, Sypha."

He couldn't do this alone. But then, neither could they.


	3. Chapter 3

Alucard wavered between his need to be wanted and his need for self-preservation. Trevor had noticed it first when they had dedicated themselves to the plan to venture outside of the castle walls. Sypha had left them to put away the dishes and get a clean robe while Alucard made an excuse to change clothes too. Trevor had watched him picking at the bloody spots on his sleeve while they'd finished eating, as if he could scratch the blood out of the fabric. Twice, Alucard had been so invested in the blood that he had exposed the agitated marks on his wrist, and it was all Trevor could do not to reach over and tug the sleeve down.

He didn't know if he was trying to protect Alucard or Sypha from the marks, but they were snakes, coiled and biting. Their poison had already sept into Alucard and was still leaking out.

Sypha's eyes never found their way to the marks. Sometimes Trevor envied how she could be oblivious, how she could spare herself the pain of seeing what she didn't want to see.

He looked for the things that would hurt him because, more than the pain, he feared the _unexpected_ pain. It was easier to brace for an attack when you saw it coming. Sypha just preferred to think that she'd never be on the receiving end of one.

Sypha was gone from the room before Alucard stood, as tall and poised as Trevor remembered. But then, that was the vampire in him--the almost otherworldly demeanor that he couldn’t shake no matter how far he wanted to distance himself from his father. Something about the way he moved reminded Trevor of a fractured statue, battered with age and abuse. Beautiful marble, stunning to look at, resilient despite the damage. Alucard was gaunt and wore a harrowed look on his face that seemed to fade or worsen in the blink of an eye. There was no consistency to it.

Unpredictability was something Trevor had been taught to beware.

Alucard caught Trevor's eyes on his wrist again and tugged his sleeve down with more force than was necessary. "Stop it."

The words were oddly forceful and Trevor wondered what sort of mood Alucard had fluctuated into--the self preservation or the need for comfort. 

One day, the two needs would align. 

Trevor scratched at the stubble on his chin indifferently and pretended like he wasn’t concerned. "Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Just looking."

Alucard must have been frustrated; he shot a glare across the room but did not counter Trevor's words.

They could have stood there for an eternity in silence, but Trevor could tell when Alucard was floundering within his own mind. "I might have a cream for it, help it heal. How long have you had it?"

The temptation to erase the marks _they_ had left upon his flesh tugged at Alucard insistently. The more Trevor saw, the more he'd speculate, the more he'd know. These marks were a clear record of what _they_ had done, of the legacy _they_ left behind. It was the mark of their betrayal. Sometimes, he looked at the scars and he could feel their hands on him. Teasing his flesh, sending him spiraling in pleasure. Trapping him against the mattress with such force their nails had drawn blood. His stomach clenching in fear and despair.

Alucard shuddered and turned away but Trevor had seen.

Finding his voice was hard and his answer started off too quietly. He had to force himself to speak louder; he cleared his throat and began again. "A week. How long will it take?" 

Trevor was not a doctor and he could manage only a guess, "Faster than what they'd heal on their own. _If_ they’d heal on their own. It's magical, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Alucard tensed when Trevor walked across the room. His strides were long and heavy and his boot against the floor sounded like a drum by his ear. Before he could flinch away, Trevor had taken his hand and drawn it up, carefully pushing the sleeve up. Alucard felt violated, exposed, with Trevor's blatant intrusion of his personal circle but the look on the hunter's face kept him from retreating from his touch.

Trevor wanted the world to think he was coarse and unapproachable so he had an excuse to keep them at arms' length. He burdened himself with so much already and it was his crude way of protecting himself. Alucard had wondered what Trevor _felt_ like. He had imagined more than he would admit, but these things were expected. Trevor was warm and heat radiated from his calloused hand as it held Alucard's. He did not lace fingers, did not do anything sentimental, but he supported the hand and arm as he peeled up the sleeve past the elbow, examining the agitated flesh.

There was no judgement, no criticism; Alucard's eyes were stern on Trevor's face, waiting for the micro-expression that would excuse him for jerking away his hand.

There was only silent determination and careful analysis. "It was more than silver. There's holy magic in it? It's why it's not healing. This will scar--"

Alucard sucked in a breath and Trevor's eyes were on him, confused. The dhampir held the air in his lungs, ignored the burning sensation, the wave of dread that he came when he realized _he would never be free of them_ \--

But Trevor continued, "--If you don't let me get the balm on it."

Alucard still didn't breathe. He had to imagine Trevor's eyes exploring his body, his hands roaming. _Touching_ him. His body was rigid, protesting, and fear was steadily replacing the blood in his veins.

"I can do it myself," Alucard said-- _coldly_ \--and retracted his hand. "I don't need you."

He wasn't fooling anyone. He was still trembling, and Trevor hadn’t taken his eyes off of him. He expected Trevor to dismiss him and leave but the hunter just watched him with a gaze so insistent that Alucard's resolve quickly crumbled. He felt like a child again, small and pliable, fearing reproach and desperate for approval.

Alucard broke first and shook his head, raising a hand to his forehead and then pinching his index finger and thumb into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I am not feeling myself."

"I know."

No anger. Alucard's fear ebbed a bit and he murmured, "I am not all right, Trevor."

"I know."

"...Well then, you just know everything, don't you?"

Trevor clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and held out his hand again, palm open and inviting. Alucard did not know _why_ his first reaction was to return his hand to it, letting it rest lightly atop the human’s.

Trevor reached for his sleeve, carefully, _gently_ , covering up the marred flesh. When he had finished, he patted the back of Alucard's hand and gave him a small squeeze. "I know you're hurting. And I know you're scared."

Alucard's pride demanded he interject but Trevor was still speaking _calmly_ , like he _didn't_ actually think less of him. "And I know you don't want help because you think you have to do this alone. Because that's what it's always been. Alone. You, versus the world. And then, it was us, versus the world. And then it was you, again. And you got hurt before us, and you got hurt after us, and you're waiting to be hurt again. By us?"

Alucard's brows knit and his gaze lowered. "It isn’t like that."

"It's exactly like that," Trevor pressed. "And you're stubborn, so you can't make up your mind."

It was true, but it agitated Alucard anyway. He was being called out by a man who could barely manage his own personal demons.

"So stop," Trevor commanded. "Breathe. In, and out. I've got scars. Hell, I've got scars on my _face_. Can't walk around and hide those. I stopped trying years ago. You’ve got a nasty thing on your chest from your father--and you walk around with your shirt open. If you manage to put one on at all.”

Trevor couldn't see his chest now, though; the collar of Alucard's shirt was fastened tightly around his neck, deliberately buttoned to hide the skin. Trevor imagined he was hiding more than just wounds on his wrist.

"So tell me," he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Alucard's hand in the way he did for Sypha when she needed silent comfort, "What's so bad about _this_ one?"

"...I need to change clothes," Alucard replied shortly, suddenly. "You may come."

It wasn't the answer that Trevor expected but he was given no time to protest or press for an actual answer. Alucard brushed by him as if he meant to leave him behind, only he tightened his grip on Trevor's hand and tugged him through the castle. Up the staircase, down a hallway Trevor didn't recognize. It was unfamiliar territory and looked even more untouched than the other parts of the castle. Alucard opened the door to what initially seemed like an incredibly bland room devoid of furniture or decoration. The sunlight filtering through the window blinded Trevor briefly and he raised his free hand to shield his eyes from the light. A few seconds of adjustment allowed him to closely examine the room--a room that seemed to exist simply for the purpose of storing clothes. It was the biggest, most blinding closet he'd ever been in and it housed shirts, jackets, vests and pants in all styles and colors. There were more shoes than could fit an entire village. 

A sigh escaped him when he was unfairly reminded of the hidden room in the judge's house, filled with _shoes_. Only, these seemed almost completely untouched--far from a trove of trophies, it was simply a massive selection. Alucard noticed the way Trevor's hand had gripped his tighter, for only a second, and it was with reluctance that he finally freed Trevor. 

Of all the colors he could have gone to, Alucard gravitated towards white again, and began to filter through the shirts looking for something as modest as his current selection. He pulled out a stiff white shirt, long sleeved and high collared. He offered it out to Trevor, who accepted it awkwardly and held it up to examine it.

Crisp, clean, simple. He pinched the fabric between his fingers, suddenly concerned that the dirt beneath his nails might rub off on it. The shirt was far from his own personal taste and he lowered it, mouth agape to comment on Alucard's choice when the pale flesh of the vampire suddenly came into view and silenced him.

Alucard stood before him, shirt removed, and completely exposed. He had dropped the sullied shirt on the ground and stood, hands by his side. His face was almost unreadable--lost, but determined. Committed. 

Trevor did not waste the opportunity to inspect what he could before Alucard tried to shut him out again. The marks were not limited to just his wrist but snaked up his arms, around his torso, around his neck. The dhampir's tight pants clung to his hips and Trevor followed the marks until they disappeared below his waist. 

His wrists weren't the worst part. His chest bore deeper lacerations, purple and blistering, and the skin around his neck looked agitated.

"Alucard--"

"Stop," he held up a hand. "...You wanted to see how bad it was. You can see."

Trevor held the clean shirt for a moment, tracing his eyes over the pale flesh again. He took a step forward and Alucard tensed, once more preparing for _touch_ but Trevor kept his hands to himself, instead just clutching the shirt tighter. He leaned in close, taking visible notes and assessing the damage. He didn’t miss the dark bruises underneath the singed skin of his wrists, or the fingerprints on his hips, or the bruises on his neck, around his nipples, on his shoulders.

Alucard looked at him defiantly, challenging him to say the wrong thing. Everything about his posture screamed that he wanted a fight. Except for his eyes.

His eyes were begging, pleading, to _fix_ this.

Fix _him_.

"It's bad," Trevor exhaled. "Does it hurt?"

"Constantly." He pried the shirt from Trevor's grip only to hold it limply before him. He feigned an attempt at smoothing out the crinkles from where Trevor had been gripping it too tightly. "...Do they bother you?"

He hadn't meant to sound so insecure, to sound so uncertain. He needed to know if they were ugly, if _he_ was ugly. Alucard needed to hear if he was damaged, if he was unsavable, if he was worthless. 

If he was ruined.

"Well." Trevor's words were slow and Alucard felt like his heart would explode as he waited, eyes on the hunter's lips as he tried to predict what words would fall. "Women like scars. I do too. But you're not keeping these, are you? We're going to go down into the hold, dig through the keep, find the balm--and if we can't, we'll just get the recipe from one of the books down there and make some. You're good at that, all that medicine stuff."

He had talked fondly of how his mother had taught him in his youth, back when they were still travelling on the road together.

Trevor reached for his hand again and lifted it to nearly eye level. Alucard's skin was smooth like Sypha's but had a strength even his softness couldn't hide. Trevor knew what a swordsman's hand felt like, he knew what a vampire's talons felt like. Alucard was different from anything and anyone he’d ever experienced.

He drew the dhampir’s hand to his lips and kissed the bruised skin on the inside of his wrist. 

Alucard stared, wondering how Trevor's lips were so _soft_.

"They're not ugly, Alucard. They're injuries. They're not supposed to be pretty. They don't change _you_ , not unless you let them. You've got the same pretty face as always."

"Are you teasing me? Or do you mean that."

Trevor's head tilted to the side, wondering if Alucard had some hidden vanity. "You can't tell me you've lived this long and haven't realized that you're beautiful. Even Sypha's jealous."

"She shouldn't be. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

Trevor paused and the slightest bit of a grin cracked on his face. He should have been jealous but he wasn’t; Alucard wasn’t a threat to either of them and Sypha could use all the kindness the world could manage. "You ought to tell her that. I bet she'd like to hear it. She's hurting, so."

"Why are you with me and not her?"

Trevor grunted and shrugged."I'm giving you a chance to talk to me before she starts _investigating_."

Alucard frowned and repeated, "Investigating?"

"It's her new favorite thing. Except, I think she figured out that you don't always find good things at the end of a mystery."

"...Then, we shouldn't be away from her. If she's hurting. If she's scared."

Trevor watched as Alucard rationalized his own emotions, processed them thoroughly, as he thought of Sypha.

"Are you going to tell her about these?" Trevor asked, tapping near the singed skin.

Alucard drew away his hand, not to put distance between them but to clothe himself. "...No, not yet. I don't want to look at them. I don't want anyone to see them."

"...You let me," Trevor reminded.

"You're going to help me get rid of them. Maybe I cannot do this alone. And maybe, _maybe_ , if you can make them go away, I will tell you about them."

"You promise you won't keep secrets?"

"I will keep them for as long as I can," Alucard replied earnestly, but as his fingers deftly moved to close his shirt and conceal the marks again, he added, "But I will say something about you, Belmont. I think you are my weakness."

"Well. I've had some experience with vampires, before. I'm a bit of a professional."

Alucard's lips pressed into a firm line that might have been the shadow of a smile. "...You're a professional killer. Unless you plan on killing me, I don't think that experience will help you."

Trevor had never lost a fight to man nor beast, and this was one hell of a beast. He didn't know how to kill a demon he couldn't see but he didn't know how to give up and he wasn't going to start now.

"I know how to kill them, so all I have to do is the exact opposite for you."

"You'd give up all you know just to try and make me feel 'better'?"

Alucard was fumbling to button his sleeves and Trevor stepped in, easily closing the fabric around one wrist and moving to fasten the other. "There's not much I wouldn't do for you."

The last button slid into place and Trevor stepped away to admire his handiwork. Alucard's eyes were on him, an expression he couldn't quite place. Trevor blurted, "What?"

In a moment of tenderness, of trust and need, Alucard moved. It was impulsive--another shifting emotion and Alucard let himself be swayed by it. He wrapped his arms together behind Trevor’s neck and rested against him. "Thank you," he said quietly. "...I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how this will work out. I don't know if I'll want to talk to you in the next hour."

Trevor snorted and accepted the hug. He was still getting used to any sort of physical intimacy but Alucard initiated this and he wasn’t going to push him away if this was something he needed. He wrapped his arms loosely around him, making sure Alucard could break free whenever he wanted. "Well, I'll be here for longer than that. So don't worry. We have time."

He felt Alucard stiffen in his arms and then felt the tension ease away. Alucard exhaled and nodded, resting him with a bit more trust. "We have time," he repeated.

Maybe things weren't going to be better today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But maybe, at the end of it all, there was still a chance that things _would_ be better.

The dismal little spark of hope inside of him burned a little brighter.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was a welcome sight, calling to them from dirty windows and cracks in the walls. They had all been deprived of its warmth for too long; Alucard had spent too much time in the darkness of the castle and it had rained for nearly half of the trip back from Lindenfeld. The three had reunited before the great doors at the castle entrance. Sypha was there first, waiting. The silence was tortuous and she felt the chill of the castle seeping into her every moment she spent alone.

She felt like she could hear echoes in the castle--ghostly and unnatural. Everything else was silent in a way that made the whispers of her imagination so _loud_.

And then, she heard footsteps. _Real_ footsteps. She lifted her head eagerly to peer at the stairwell, anxiously searching for Alucard and Trevor.

Maybe she didn't see as much as Trevor, but that didn't mean she didn't see _anything_. She trusted more than he did, and so she _trusted_ that this was the best course of action. She wanted to meet them halfway up the stairs, wanted to run and take their hands into her own. Wanted their warmth to chase away the cold she felt so much of these days.

She didn't want to drive them away by _needing_ them too much.

Sypha came from a family where they supported each other. They talked about their problems, they helped each other. She had never had a problem she had needed to face alone. Unlike her, Alucard and Trevor were so used to relying on themselves that sometimes it felt like a fight to get them to open up to her.

Trevor lost most of those fights with her. Alucard had pouted before, but now she couldn't imagine the playful, sulking look on his face. She just saw sadness. He wore on his face what she wore in her heart, and a pang of guilt flooded through her at the hypocrisy of it all.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and she had to force a smile to her face. It didn't reach her eyes but if she tried hard enough, one day it would. "Hurry!" she called to them. "We'll run out of sunlight before we even get outside."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Trevor grumbled, but he wasn't the one with a slow pace. He walked shoulder to shoulder with Alucard, pacing himself so that their steps matched. Alucard wasn't dragging his feet because he didn't want to go, he was doing it because he _hurt_. Because he was exhausted.

Trevor knew.

Sypha knew, too, but she was clever enough to play along. Trevor had been complaining about how he needed to move, about how he'd wanted to get on his feet and walk, just earlier that morning. He'd stayed in the cart because it was faster, but she knew that no amount of soreness from sitting in their little wagon would have him walking at such a pace.

She was proud of him, though; he wasn’t heckling Alucard to hurry up. He was giving him a sense of normalcy, an excuse so he didn’t have to have all of the attention on him.

They made it down the stairs and to her side after an agonizing wait. She felt like her smile might crack from the pressure of holding it for so long but she was resilient. Being close to them brought reassurance and strength--but then, when he was just in front of her, Alucard lowered his head just slightly, looking down at her intently. His face was impassive, slack and emotionless except for his knit brows.

Sypha didn’t know what the expression meant, or what he was thinking, but she held her smile and met his gaze with confidence enough to enforce her bluff.

Alucard retained her gaze but instead of saying anything he reached for her hand, cool fingers wrapping around the clenched fist at her side. She hadn't realized they were still balled but it was too late. He raised her hand slightly, gently prying her fingers out of her palm. Bloody, crescent shaped marks were indented into her flesh.

He'd smelled the blood, faint as it was. She'd been digging her nails into the flesh of her palm and hadn't even noticed. She had been reckless and this wasn’t the first time she’d hurt herself in the past week. Stupid, little things that could have been avoided if she’d been focusing instead of letting her mind wander.

Alucard held her hand, observing the marks for a moment. Trevor watched from his side and sighed heavily, reaching for her other hand. He didn't have to look at it; he simply laced fingers with her and squeezed.

There was silence between them for a few seconds longer before Sypha forced a laugh. "I suppose I don't know my own strength! You've missed so much, Alucard. Every day I get stronger. I can beat Trevor when we arm wrestle!"

Alucard's brow arched curiously at this; Trevor immediately scoffed. "She cheats."

"I _win_ ," Sypha said, and impulsively twisted her hand to lace fingers with Alucard. He blinked, watching as his hand was dragged to her side. He did not resist her. She bore him no threat and her soft skin against his brought him a comfort he’d longed for. Sypha turned to the door and tugged at each of them. "I want to see the fish."

"You've seen fish, Sypha. They're nothing special," Trevor drawled. He didn't take a step after her until Alucard did, and even then he made sure to match pace with him again.

"Everything is special, Trevor. Especially around here. I'm surprised there are still animals that come by with the castle here. It has a...dark spell on it, doesn't it?" She tilted her head up to Alucard. His silence worried her but she felt a weight slide off of her shoulders when he answered, "It may."

It was short, but it was something. He wasn't trying to draw away from them. He wasn't ignoring them, or banishing them. He might not have been _their_ Alucard, not in the way she'd hoped to find him, but she could see pieces of him. "You feel it?" .

He nodded slightly; they had reached the stairs and he was moving as best he could--one step at a time, head bowed so he didn't have to see the graves. Trevor’s steps were more deliberate now than ever; each step he took was timed to match Alucard’s--specifically now to keep the grave concealed from his peripheral vision. He didn’t give Alucard the chance to peek; he didn’t want to tempt his guilty conscience. 

He wanted to protect him from whatever memories he’d buried in that grave.

Alucard’s answer was quiet, like he was distracted. "The castle is colder than I remember. There are shadows I don't remember seeing. It has a will of its own. But there is darkness within its halls. Much blood has been shed here."

Trevor grumbled. "Have the Night Creatures tried to return?"

"Some. Not enough to be concerning. I don't know how many are left. I only saw one Forgemaster with my father when we arrived. I scoured the castle for him but I never found him. If he was smart, he has abandoned his trade and fled."

"Are they ever, though?" Trevor sighed.

"I've never met a Forgemaster," Sypha murmured.

"If we're lucky, you never will."

She nodded at Trevor's words; they had reached the bottom of the stairs and though she pressed forward, she didn't quite seem to know the way. Before she could ask, Alucard nodded towards a faintly visible path that led into the forest. "It's past the Belmont House," he answered, as simply as if she had asked aloud.

"Have you spent much time there?" she asked. "...Does it feel the same as the castle?"

"No. But it is not perfect either. The Belmonts seem particularly proud of their hunts. They kept many trophies of their victims. It is unnerving."

"They weren't vic--" Trevor's voice tapered off and he sighed heavily, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he reconsidered his words. Finally, a disheartened growl. "...Maybe you'd know better than me. You've spent more time than I have down there at this point." He seemed a bit soured by the topic, but he idolized his ancestors. He idolized their work, he believed in it. They hunted monsters.

...Perhaps a bit too aggressively, sometimes. But they did what they had to in order to keep their people safe.

Alucard grunted, as if he might have even been disappointed that there was no banter. He did not seem smug in his victory. "You may see for yourself. 'You have time', don't you?"

Not quite mocking, but testing. Sypha answered before Trevor could. " _All_ the time. I don't want to leave you again."

She had a little bounce in her step as they walked over the soft grass. She could enjoy stretching, the fresh air, the gentle call of nature.

More than any of that, she was enjoying the way Alucard's hand had relaxed in hers when she answered. He had exhaled softly, like some worry building in his chest had escaped. 

"Trevor said the same," he replied.

"It's important to us. You're important to us," She said. They had made it to the Belmont house in their slow, steady steps, and Trevor paused in the middle of the dirt road they’d been following on their way towards Alucard’s path. "...I didn't see it on the way in," he said suddenly. "--What is that, scaffolding? --Are you rebuilding my house?"

Trevor dropped Sypha's hand instinctively and trotted over to the other side of the road to get a better look. "--You made a lift into the Hold?" 

He had such genuine excitement that Alucard was temporarily taken aback. He blinked at Trevor, watching the stupid grin on his face, and he suddenly wished he'd done more. It was an impossible task but he wondered what Trevor might have looked like if he'd finished a room in the house, the _whole_ house, even.

"It isn't much. I found blueprints when I was cleaning your basement. I thought, it's exposed to the elements. The castle isn't going anywhere. If I was going to prioritize this seemed the most in need of attention. I took some liberties below, but.” He shrugged. “I only did a bit aboveground. I had more plans, but.” His voice tapered off; he was unwilling to expand and shrugged away the thought. “I found some things in the rubble when I was cleaning."

"Did you?" Trevor's enthusiasm betrayed his typical dark outlook on all things. "What was it, what did you find?"

"I'll show you when we get back to the castle."

Trevor looked like he was considering bolting back to the castle to dig around for it himself but instead he dragged himself back to Sypha. She took his hand as if she were corralling an unruly child and tugged him towards the forest. 

"I can't believe it. I thought you'd sat there and sulked the whole time. I was going to make fun of you for the mess in the castle. But now I don't know what to say."

"Thank you?" Sypha suggested under her breath.

"Yes, that. What she said."

The faintest smile appeared on Alucard's lips--and he laughed. A soft, faint noise, but it was enough that he seemed surprised. They were a few hundred yards out of the castle, away from the _graves_ , and he could _laugh_.

Sypha may have been right about a curse upon the castle. While they were still slow moving, Alucard glanced over his shoulder, at the dirt mound he could make out in the distance. He thought of _them_ , buried and rotten beneath the ground, and his smile faded. The laughter died, replaced by a heavy sigh. He had to turn his back from them before he felt like he could breathe again.

She was tugging them forward before he could lose himself in his grief.

Alucard sighed lowly. "Well. You're welcome. But it was a bit cruel of you to leave me all these chores. I hope you will make up for it if you're staying."

Sypha's nose wrinkled. "Chores?"

"Cleaning. Organizing. Repairing."

"You know, I've got a bit of a record for _destroying_ things, not so much...any of that you’ve just said," Trevor replied. 

"I've never had a house," Sypha insisted. "I don't do those things."

"...So you are, then, useless to me. I can see why you left." Alucard's lips were pursed but he did not seem completely serious.

"No," Sypha insisted. "...I am not good at staying in one place. Trevor isn't either, he--"

"I don't need an explanation," Alucard interjected. "I will teach what you need to know. And you will help me."

It was non-negotiable, firm. Alucard was not begging, he was demanding. He almost sounded confident, strong in his insistence.

It was, after all, the perfect excuse to keep them there forever. As long as there were things to do, they would have to stay and help him.

There were _always_ things to do.

"Fine," Trevor grumbled. Sypha just sighed and nodded, resting her head against Alucard's shoulder. "...All right," she agreed. "But maybe we can take it easy for a few days? I don't..."

Her voice faded and she walked in silence as she collected her thoughts. "...I don't feel very good right now."

"...You didn't eat too much, did you?" Trevor asked. He knew she'd eaten next to nothing and she was probably malnourished and sleep deprived herself.

"No." Her voice was soft, wispy almost. "...I want to lay in bed and not get up. Maybe for a whole year."

"It isn't that enjoyable,” Alucard assured.

Trevor watched the two of them, the way they seemed to curl in on each other. The way Sypha could rest against Alucard's shoulder for comfort, for reassurance. The way Alucard leaned into her, feeding into her desire as much as his.

At any point in time Sypha could have rested against Trevor like she had been for the past few months, but he knew why she was doing this. It wasn’t because she didn’t like him, it was because she was clever and compassionate and she knew what she was doing.

Alucard was damaged but not broken. Trevor had gone into this intending to support Alucard when he could not support himself, and Sypha had gone in with the intent of showing Alucard he was not as weak as he thought. She used him for support as much as she offered her support for him. For as beaten down as Alucard felt, he could find camaraderie in her vulnerability, her pain. He didn’t have to feel weak, or alone.

Sypha understood _people_ , suffering. She provided a softness that Trevor never could. Even at his weakest, Trevor could not let all of his walls down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried, the last time he'd had his _feelings_ hurt. Part of Trevor died in the fire that took the rest of his family from him.

It was supposed to stay dead; he was supposed to go through life without his emotions, without ties. He was supposed to kill monsters until one of them killed him. No one was supposed to miss him and he wasn't supposed to miss anyone.

That was the _plan_.

The plan which he had so miserably failed to keep, because right now he was _feeling_. He'd realized there was a _problem_ when he first met Sypha. She captivated him from early on--a Speaker? Fighting monsters? A _Magician_? He held no magic of his own, sans what coursed through his blood--but he'd never make fireballs or ice walls.

Sypha was a class of her own and he loved her for it.

She'd taken the rough, barren soil of his heart and planted her seeds and now it felt like _flowers_ were in full bloom. 

She softened Alucard in the same way that she softened him and he could tell by the expression on Alucard's face how desperately he needed to be needed too.

For a while, Trevor had denied that there was anything between him and Sypha. It had been easier to ignore his feelings when it had been the three of them--chalk it all up to sexual frustration and the awkwardness of traveling in a group when he was used to traveling alone. When they'd left Alucard there was no excuse to not let the mind wander. They'd slept in the back of the wagon together, curling close for warmth.

Sypha had made the first move--because Trevor, in his infinite loneliness, had never considered that she could want him too.

He'd been smitten ever since.

She'd left her mark on him--nagging, at first. Chastizing him because he wasn't good at opening up, at comforting people, at being _human_. He learned to love that about her because she _made_ him human. He'd gone from awkward pats on the shoulder to full on embraces, he'd gone from groaning at her lamentations to listening-- _comforting_. 

He’d gone from alone and unloved to this, and he was _happy_.

She trusted him enough to let him talk to Alucard first. He figured he must have been making some progress in her book if she believed in him that much. That, and she understood that there had always been _something_ there, some level of understanding between the two of them that she didn’t quite _get_. It was why she'd let them carry out their fight in Gresit before stepping in at the end.

Maybe because they were too close. He had definitely never been _that_ close to a vampire--and liked it. They were an odd assortment but something about it _worked_. He wasn't even jealous that Sypha was nuzzling against Alucard, or that they were so close that his hair was spilling over her as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

Trevor was relieved. They looked peaceful. He wanted to find a nice tree for them, drape a blanket around them, and let them curl up under the sun while he kept watch.

When Trevor let out a wistful sigh, Alucard looked at him from over Sypha's head. It was an inquisitive expression that warranted a hapless shrug from the hunter. But, Trevor smiled at him.

Alucard smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope shorter chapters are all right; it lets me update a little more regularly instead of spacing updates out longer to write more! I have an idea for where I want to take this story but mostly I'm just writing as I go. Thank you so much to everyone who is reading! As always, I would like to write more in general and I am still open for new requests! I have a few I'd like to work on in the near future, but information on requests can be found on my profile; if there’s anything anyone wants to see and can’t find or wants more of, please let me know!


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